Running
by RaeEcho
Summary: Running. It's something both the Doctor and the Flock have in common, but when things finally catch up with the Flock, only the Doctor can help Iggy save not only the Flock but also the world. Crossover Maximum Ride/Doctor Who/Torchwood
1. Just Taking a Stroll

A/N- You totally thought this was an update didn't you, but sadly it is not.

Could this be? A rewrite!

Yes... Yes it could...

Okay. So, I was thinking about putting this back on my active stories list and I read it to get a feel for it, and I realized it was really bad. Major changes have been made. For starters, this chapter is almost 1000 words longer, and I will no longer be going POV crazy. Iggy will be first person, everyone else, third...

Enjoy the rewrite, and tell me what you think.

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><p><strong>Iggy<strong>

Running, verb or an action word, I think it means some nonsense about recreation or an act that is faster than walking, but that's not an accurate definition.

An accurate definition would be more along lines of a survival tool, and the older I get, I find that I use this survival tool more than I use anything else other than oxygen.

Running, also happens the best way to avoid being kidnapped and mutated by an organization that wants nothing more than to ruin your day and to take the fuzz off your peach.

Overall, when you run anywhere it's because you have motivation, and normally my motivation is pretty terrifying.

Don't get me wrong, I like running just fine. It always came effortless to me. Even if I'm always tripping over some random obstacle, running was just one of things that I'm good at. It's kind of sad that I can't do it for just pure recreation, there has to be a reason, and normally there is. Just for an example, the reason I'm running through some god forsaken forest in England. Why? Because of The School, Erasers, and other misfortunate events that have ruled over my existence.

So, to also answer that other question buzzing around in your skulls of "Why are you in England?" The answer is, I have no clue. Max's voice is just "Hey go to Europe" and Max happily obliged. Don't get me wrong I love Max like a sister, but sometimes I really want to kill her.

However, my plans for killing Max would have to wait, because there was nothing I could do about anything with a group of bloodthirsty Erasers on my tail.

So, I ran. I ran faster than I ever had. Blood pounded in my ears and my blond hair stuck to my forehead dripping sweat into my eyes, making them sting. Branches and thorns seemed to tear at my clothing and my skin with each stride I took, and the taunting sounds of my pursuers rang through the night, never failing to send shiver down my spine. Their raspy voices would stay with me forever, as most sounds would, but tone they took... They didn't want to kill me... They wanted to play with me.

They wanted to be the Sylvester to my Tweety Bird.

A large explosion went off in the distance ripping out of my thoughts and the sudden noise added with the slight tremor of the ground sent me off balance, but luckily I didn't fall. Falling meant slowing down, and that's never a good idea in a situation like the one I was in.

"Ha!" I yelled as the erasers tripped my last land mine. Explosives seemed to just agree with me, but it seemed like The School's lackeys were not as fortunate. With a slight chuckle, I put on a burst of speed. After all, I had just blown up a few members of the Eraser entourage and it was a known fact that something like that set them off.

I had to get ahead while they regrouped. If I didn't I wouldn't be able to keep them at bay for much longer. I was tired, hungry, and ready for a nap in a nice oak tree. I hadn't had a break in hours, and it didn't seem like I would be getting a break anytime soon, but I couldn't get caught. Max and the others were counting on me to stay alive and stay safe. It was the least I could do for my family.

I needed a plan, but more importantly, I needed to get airborne.

It wasn't the safest route with the thunder and scent of rain in the air, but it was better than the alternative. The only problem I was facing was the lack of a place to take off. Forest were notorious for small birds. Large ones, not so much.

It was almost as if someone had heard my thoughts and took pity on me because not a minute later I stumbled into a clearing. I had no idea how big it was, but the sudden appearance of wind gave me a hint. It meant that there were no trees to use as wind breakers. I would've guessed the open space about the size of a soccer field.

The only thing I knew was that the grass was tall enough to touch my knees, and that I was about to get the hell out of Dodge.

I spread my wings and mumbled one of Gazzy's favorite jokes under my breath. "Houston, we are ready for take off."

It always seemed to make him smile when I said it, and the sudden flash of nostalgia hit me like a train. I wanted to remember, but it wasn't the time to get sentimental. It was the time to leave before I died.

I extended my wings to there full length and felt the familiar rush of air push against my feathers. At that moment, I wished more than anything that I could see people's faces if they saw me there. I mean cause seeing a six foot two mutant bird kid with goldish color wings sanding in the moon light when the countryside is on the brink of a storm would freak someone out majorly any day of the week.

I chuckled darkly, letting the the visual image form in my mind. Then, without anymore distractions, I began my take off, when a sound behind me erupted in the night. I knew it was a gun shot, and before I could even start to hope that whoever had shot at me was a terrible aim, pain ran throughout my left wing like wild fire, sending me crashing to the ground. I was vaguely aware of some other issue that was hurting me, but I couldn't focus on it. My wing hurt. Everything just had to be difficult for me that day.

It annoyed me to no end, but I knew there was no way that would be flying anytime soon.

So, I tried to get up to face my approaching attackers. I pushed myself off the ground, and clenched my teeth to bite back the pained scream that was building in my throat. I didn't make it very far when I crumbled back to the ground. Of course my only other serious injury would be to my leg. I must have twisted it wrong when I crash landed.

"Suck it up Iggy." I growled to myself, and once again I tried to get up, with the same results. I cursed under my breath and was going for round three, when the Erasers finally made their presence known.

"Looky here boys," A heard one say, his voice made me laugh. It wasn't the same as the voices that had yelled and chased me through the night. His voice was higher pitched, comical even. It also sounded familiar. Then, it hit me... Oh my god he sounds like a freakin chipmunk.

Not a second after that thought I had crossed my mind I began laughing. I probably sounded like someone out of a mental institution, but I couldn't stop. Whether because of his voice or because of the sleep deprivation had finally taken hold, was still undetermined.

"What's so funny freak." The same Eraser asked, making me laugh harder than before. My ribs were protesting and my lungs felt like they were about to exploded, but that still didn't stop me.

"Your voice sounds like a chipmunk." I wanted to say something else with my snarky comment, but a little voice in my head that sounded strangely like Max said _Don't do it, that mouth of your's will just get you into trouble_. Woops, too late I thought to the voice as I said, "Did you choke on a squeaky toy?." Not just the chipmunk Eraser growled at that one. I counted eight different tones. So eight of them, Looks like my last bomb did more damage then I initially thought. I must have taken out at least five with one blow. Not bad if for a makeshift bomb made with things found in your friendly neighborhood janitors closet.

My self praise was short lived, however, when a steal toed boot made contact with my ribs. I could have sworn I heard something snap, but I clenched my teeth. _I will not give them the satisfaction of them hearing me scream. _I said internally. Looks like that last comment went a bit to far, but as far as I could tell I would become a punching bag no matter which way you looked at it.

"I've heard five year olds with manly voices than yours." I mumbled in my pained daze, not even realizing what I had said until the words left my mouth. _Oh, stupid stupid stupid stupid. _Another kick made contact with my side_. _I tried to curl up in a ball but my leg hurt like, pardon my French, HELL.

Then, another came shortly after. Without being able to hold it back any longer, an "oof" made its way through my lips. Then another kick, and another, and another. I lost count of how many came, but in the end I was screaming. I didn't know if I was begging for them to stop or cursing them and their mothers, but I hoped it was the latter option.

The kicking eventually stopped and all that could be heard was my wheezing and my coughing up of what tasted like blood. They apparently had gotten their kicks because no one touched me. They just left me bleeding a broken on the ground while they prepared the transport to take me to whatever fresh experiments they had planned.

A rough hand grabbed my hair and my hands went instinctively to my head, and I found myself touching a rough, hairy hand. If I weren't trying to retain a small ounce of my dignity I would've screamed like a little girl confronted with a spider and for lack of better a word, flipped out.

I briefly wondered what the Eraser could possibly be doing when with a sharp tug, he forced me upright and onto my knees. A groan escaped through my lips as pressure was put on my leg, and I couldn't even put up a struggle as another eraser grabbed my arms and tied them behind my back with multiple zip ties. Some of ties even broke the skin on my wrists and I felt blood slowly drip from the shallow cuts.

I felt tears sting in the corners of my eyes and all I could think about was how much I hated them. The erasers only laughed at my display.

They wouldn't have laughed at Max...

Anger suddenly replaced my fear, and I pin pointed the leader of the pack, and stared him down. Just like Max would have. They needed to know that they couldn't break me, and I would be more than happy to show them that.

The laughing died almost immediately because they had all read the reports, I was the blind kid, 6'3", reddish-blond hair, and the weakest member of our merry band of mutants. I wasn't supposed to be able to stare anyone down. I wasn't supposed to be able to grin evilly like a child from a horror movie. I wasn't wasn't supposed to scare them, but I did, and I loved it.

"How does he do that? The report said he was blind." I would have given almost anything to see the expression on his messed up face, but I couldn't. I had get my giggles in a different way. Leaving me only one option, to laugh in the face of danger. Which was exactly what I did, and the Erasers were not happy.

The one that had grabbed my hair forced me upright in a standing position and another punched my stomach. I tried I really did, to take the grin off my face, but I just couldn't. My exhausted state finally took the better of me, letting me give into my delirium, because of this, the beating continued.

The last thing I felt was a gust of wind then the punch that knocked me unconscious, and that was a small mercy.

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><p><strong>Director's POV<strong>

"Have you captured the experiment?" The Director asked the Eraser through his standard issue communicator. His voice was deep and menacing and he could practically hear the creature on the other side of the line cowering at his tone.

"Yes, sir." Was the beast's response. Brief, quick, and it was obvious that speaking one on one with his superior was making him nervous. Excellent, it was just the way it should be.

"Were there any complications?" He asked and he started tapping his fingers across his desk in indifference.

"It has been shot, sir." This Eraser said gently, terrified of what his reaction would be. A smile crossed the man's face at the fear in his voice.

"Who did it?"

"The Beta, sir." The Director thought for a moment of what to do. He couldn't let insubordinate behavior go unpunished. The only option he had was to...

"Kill him."

"Which one, sir. The Beta or the experiment?"

"Both."

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><p>AN- Well... What do you think?

To all those people who were with me before the rewrite and liked it... I hope this doesn't make you want to throw things at me. I would love to know what you think... Please? For cookies? Really big cookies? (Warning: Not actual cookies will be given out.)


	2. Blue Buttons and Bad Situations

A/N- Chapter two... All right...

Let's see now... This one will have more about the Doctor. My last version went way too fast. As in... There was not enough in each POV switch. AKA, it was way too short... *sigh*... Silly me for being ridiculous.

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><p><strong>The Doctor<strong>

Humans had to be the most ridiculous beings in the universe. All the wonders of space and time, and they never failed to choose a location that was not only boring, but on their home planet as well. What interesting person would pick Rio in modern times when they could have just as easily said the Eagle Nebula or Raxacoricofallapatorius?

Well, maybe it wasn't easy to say the latter of those two, but that was beside the point. Sometimes humans were so boring.

Nevertheless, Amy insisted, so he drop the Ponds off for a vacation, but not without a few detours.

To be completely honest, the Doctor was excellent at driving the Tardis, but he couldn't bring himself to drop off his companions in Rio. He had his reasons but the main one was concerning something from a past life that he dare not mention. They never forgave him for the balloon incident and he had no desire to get reacquainted with local law enforcement.

So, Amy and Rory got their vacation, and he got to try and find an adventure to keep himself entertained. Which was turning out to be a more challenging task than he had thought it would be. The Tardis decided that she wasn't going to be helpful, and there wasn't a thing that he could do about it.

This meant that he had been even twice as bored as he was beforehand. The only thing the Timelord could think of to occupy his time was to lay on the floor and say every planet name he could thing of, alphabetically. It was the alternative to saying every word in the English dictionary, so he didn't complain.

Abydos...

Adipose 3...

Agora...

Alfava Metraxis...

Beep...

Wait... Beep?

The Doctor shot into a sitting position, and remained completely still, as if not to scare the noise away. He waited in silence. The only sound was his breathing and the ever present hum of the Tardis, and then it happened again... Beep.

This time he rose to his feet and stared around the spacious room. His eyes instantly went to the main console, and he waited for any signs of the noise... Beep.

And along with the noise and dark blue button flashed.

The button was nothing special, and never had he ever seen it go off in that manner. Actually, he had no idea what the button even did, but he was still overcome with the desire to touch it... Beep, the button flashed again.

Possibilities raced through his mind to what the button was for and why it was flashing. It could have been a malfunction in the inner workings of the Tardis, or perhaps a distress call. Whatever it was, it was blue, beeping, flashing, and looked like a promising way to have a good time.

He kept staring at the button as he made his way over to it. It seemed to draw him like a moth to flame and even before he could stop himself, he reached for it. His arm extended toward the button carefully and it was cool to the touch when he placed his palm on it... Beep... This time the sound was muffled under his hand.

"Okay, here we go." He said to no one and he pressed the button.

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><p><strong>Iggy<strong>

I returned to the land of the living with a headache. Not just the normal headache that you get from listening to loud music for hours, but the kind that made it feel like your brain was throbbing against your skull. The kind that felt like your head had been used by a soccer player for practice. In general, it sucked, and my current state of undress wasn't helping matters. Someone had taken my shirt, but I couldn't find myself to care over the pain in my head.

Then there was the whole issue of the blindfold that was wrapped around my eyes and secured with duct tape that was clinging to my hair. That was an entirely different matter all together, and the sad part was that I didn't have the energy to laugh at the Eraser's stupidity. All I could do was think. My first thought was, "It's going to hurt when I yank that tape off if I escape." Which was quickly followed by, "Why am I blinfolded?" How ironic, a blindfold for the blind guy. That was enough to bring a smile to anyone's face.

It probably would've too, if not for the rest of my body screaming in pain.

My hands were still bound by zip ties, but unlike when I was still conscious, they were a mess. I could feel my skin that had been peeled off by the edges, laying against the tight plastic. It was almost like a blunt knife was being pushed against my skin. Plus, blood coated my wrists, hands, and lower arms, so that was always a bonus.

My ribs felt like they were pushing themselves against my lungs. I defiantly had broken ribs, but I knew for a fact that nothing internally had been punctured. I would've been dead. It was a small blessing, but it didn't help me with the feeling that a fat baby elephant was sitting on my chest. It must have been a consolation prize.

Another thing entirely was my leg which wasn't near as bad as the rest of me, but I was laying on it. That part didn't help matters at all, nor did the freezing concrete. It wasn't the soft, slightly damp forest floor I was used to, but it was accommodating in it's own way. That accommodation may have been horrible and filthy, but I had been on worse. However, it was the first time that I wanted to take a shower willingly.

All of these were enough to make anyone's day miserable, but what got me the most was my wing. Pain wasn't the problem. The real problem was that I couldn't feel it.

I knew there was a bullet lodged in my wing. I knew that blood coated my feathers making them sticking and clumped together, and I knew that it should have been hurting like nothing other. It terrified me that I felt nothing.

I wanted to panic, but what good would that do me? I was trapped, alone, and there was no way that back up would be coming.

_Get it together, Iggy. This is no time for you to be a pansy. _I scolded myself and I tried to calm my racing heart with deep breath of air. It was just my luck that the air smelled like gasoline and wet Eraser. Eew.

I tried not to focus on the stench that made my nose crawl off my face and die, and I focused on what the smells meant. The gas meant I was in a garage or some place that was focused around gas requiring activities, and the wet Eraser meant that someone really needed a shower or that it started raining. I could work with that.

The next step would've been to check for escape possibilities, but I was quickly discouraged when my wing gave a painful throb, making my breath hitch. I was half way relieved that I could feel my wing again, but another part of me, the slightly saner side, was screaming for the pain to leave. I hadn't noticed it before, but something was pressing into my back and lower chest. I found that the erasers hand tied my wings to my back using... a belt?

I grinned at the prospect of underfunded erasers, the universe never stopped amazing me.

The smile was, however, quickly cleared off my face when I heard them. The Erasers were coming. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete and bounced across the walls. The echoing let me know how big the building was, but I didn't focus all my mind power on finding that information out. I was too distracted by the sudden sound of florescent lights buzzing and flickering on above me.

"He's awake." One of them said, and I as they got closer I could make out seven different pairs of feet approaching my prone form. I could have sworn their had been eight in the forest. That left me wondering, where had the other one gone?

The seven of them stopped at various places around me, forming a loose circle.

Silence rang through the building and the only sounds I could hear were the lights, and my own labored breathing. I wondered what the Erasers were doing, but I already knew. Dogs liked to play with their food before they ate it.

"Hey Birdy." One of them greeted and I resisted the urge to chirp at him. I was in enough trouble enough.

"What? Got nothing to say, Birdy?" The Eraser repeated and I heard boots pounding against the conrete, getting closer to me, only to stop inches from my head.

"Aren't you gonna sing for us?" The Eraser joked and he grabbed me by arms and pulled me to my knees. I knew that I was going to have hand shaped bruises for days.

"Sing." He ordered, but I kept my mouth firmly shut.

"Sing." He growled and he slipped a cold, sharp object under the belt, and between my wings, placing the edge of a blade against my back. I still kept my silence.

Well, I did before the Eraser slid a knife across my back, right between my wings, cutting deeply in the sensitive skin.

I couldn't stop the scream that ripped it's way out of my throat, eventually dying into pained gasps and barely suppressed sobs.

"That's better. You better get used to singing, Birdy. The boss don't want you any more. You're ours now." The Eraser whispered in my ear and I felt the entire weight of my situation suddenly crash down on me. I had no witty come back for this. I was alone and had become a chew toy for a pack a dogs. No one would be coming to rescue me.

"Let's have some fun." Was the last thing I heard before I stopped being able to comprehend things over my screaming. The Erasers took turns slicing into me. Pain and blood radiated out of me through the massive gashes on my back, and it seemed like it had been going on forever. I wanted to pass out, anything to escape the agony of a knife piercing my skin over and over again. If I ever got to heal, which there wasn't a good chance of, I would have scars covering my back to constantly remind me of my time with my new friends.

My mind was slowing down from the blood loss, and I had run out of screams for the monsters. I was slowly ebbing away. I might have been mistaken, but I swore I heard a vworp sound, but I couldn't be sure. I was too occupied watching another hairy fist make contact with my face.

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><p>AN- Oh! Gasp! Cliffhanger action!

Not really if you've read the old version, but whatever... :D

I live off feedback... So, please review... Please!


	3. Trust Me

A/N- Chapter three! I'm on a roll! Whether that be a hypothetical one or a dinner roll is still undetermined.

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><p><strong>The Doctor<strong>

As he found out, the Doctor, did not like motion sickness. Especially in his newest reincarnation's body.

For some reason or another, his new body wasn't equipped with the same ability to be thrown around the Tardis's control room like a pinball and still manage to stay partially upright. He also was overcome with the urge to suddenly throw up his fish fingers and custard from lunch, but luckily he didn't.

Now he understood why the Tardis had a place to sit down before departure. She knew his new anatomy better than he did. He just wished he had gotten to use this advantage before the Tardis was flung through the time vortex and started hurtling him across the room.

It was official. Pressing blinking blue buttons was not a good idea. He realized this now, and he knew that he was likely to forget it as soon as he saw another one. How the experience of having a death grip on the control console while hoping that the Tardis didn't split through dimensions and accidentally kill him would ever slip his mind would remain a mystery.

So, for ten minutes he sat there, clinging to whatever he could find for dear life. He almost yelled Geronimo as loud as he could, but just as the word built up in his throat, everything stopped. The childlike side of him pouted a little at being cheated out of his catchphrase, but he was just thankful that he could finally get to his feet without getting reacquainted with the ground.

He stood getting his bearings while trying to remember what the whole reason pushing the damn blue button in the first place. Then, he remembered, it was all in the name for adventure, and he knew that he had found it. If he was being a little more accurate, he would've said that it found him, but what was accuracy anyway? Sure, one false word could end in the downfall of the universe, but he felt he could get away with it just this once.

The Doctor had no idea how long he stood, with one hand braced against the Tardis's console and the other clutching his head. All he needed to do was get the room to stop spinning, and he could leave. The only issue with that plan was getting the room to stay in one spot long enough so he could even pretend that he was okay. It took forever, but not two seconds after it did, the Doctor raced over to his tweed jacket that was lying on the ground a few meters away. Somehow, he had lost it during the chaos. He picked it up and shook what little dirt was on it, off. Rule twelve of traveling was always have a jacket.

With a smile plastered on his features, he walked towards the door, slipping his jacket on as he went. He was almost bursting with excitement. The only thought on his mind was what could be on the other side of the familiar double door. He was almost about to open the door when he paused before exiting, allowing himself a little time to straighten his bow-tie, and make sure the fabric was as perfect as always. It wouldn't be a good idea to leave a bad first impression. Bow-ties where cool enough as is, but that didn't mean they couldn't look better.

He contemplated on getting his fez out of storage, but decided against it. It was time for the adventure to begin. With a snap of his fingers, the doors flew open, and what the Doctor saw surprised him to say the least. He hadn't expected to waltz into a dingy garage that a Slavine wouldn't even stay in, but what he really didn't expect was the sight before him that made his blood boil with rage. At least, that was the only way for him to describe how he felt.

Seven large beings faced him with shocked expressions on their strange faces. They looked like men, but had wolf qualities about them. The Doctor prided himself on being open minded, but whatever those things were, they were hideous. However, that's not what made the Timelord's skin crawl. It was what was behind the wolf things that really set him on edge.

Behind them was a boy, no older than sixteen. He was kneeling, bound, shirtless, and a thick leather belt streched around his chest, pinning something to his back. His reddish-blond hair hung over his eyes, and he was hanging his head whether it be in pain or to hide the tears that were dripping from eyes then off his chin, the Doctor didn't know. His breaths were coming out in short puffs and with each inhale he grimaced. He was also shivering slightly and his entire torso was decorated with purple and black splotches. Blood covered portions of him as well, but the majority of the damage was hidden. It was probably on his back, but the way he was turned gave the Doctor no hope of seeing how bad the damage was.

If it weren't for the abuse to the boy's body, he would have looked just like any other kid in the twenty-first century. He wore black skinny jeans, black trainers, and there was a small ear ring dangling from his ear. He was just a kid, and that's where the Doctor drew the line. You didn't mess with children.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" The Doctor questioned. He kept the rage out of his voice. Not for the sake of the wolf men, but for the boy. He didn't want to scare him, he was already injured enough.

Snarls rang throughout the room. Inhuman snarls. There wasn't a doubt in the Doctor's mind that he wasn't facing off against humans. He had never seen anything like the creatures he was facing in his entire life. Which was saying something because he had been around the block a few times.

"Who are you?" One them snarled, and he couldn't seem to tell which one. All of the men looked the same. Jeans, t-shirts, and combat boots, it made the entire group look like the same person copied over seven times.

The Doctor wanted nothing more than to growl back at the men, but he was distracted as he watched the boy flinch at the wolf man's voice. A deeper fury soared through him. How could anyone do that to a child? How could anyone make a child afraid of their voice?

"Who am I?" He asked raising an eyebrow, "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?" One of the men asked and he stepped forward, preparing to strike. The Doctor paused in brief disgust as he watched the man's face morph and distort, becoming more wolf than human. He tore his eyes away from the scene and saw that the others were changing as well. They weren't going to wait for his answer. They were going to try and kill him, and despite that they probably could, he laughed in their faces.

"Just. The. Doctor." He shouted and in the blink of an eye, he grabbed his sonic screwdriver from his inside jacket pocket and fired it at the florescent lights dangling from the ceiling.

Sparks showered down on him and the garage was pitched into total darkness. All around him he could hear the wolf men's barks of protest at the sudden change of events. The Doctor paid them no attention. His mission was to get the child and get him out.

The Doctor reached into his deep pockets and pulled out night vision goggles that he kept for occasions exactly like the one he was in, and he slipped them on his face. His hair stuck up around the straps, but there would be time to worry about it later. He had his sight back, and a slight advantage. He had to use it while he had the chance.

His entire field of vision was coated with green and his eyes scanned for the boy he was attempting to rescue. The Doctor found him in the almost same exact position he had last seen him, but it was obvious that he had moved.

His first reason for jumping to that conclusion was the mid-morphed wolf man laying next to him, dead as a doorknob, with a knife protruding out of his chest. The kid had killed one of his attackers.

The Doctor felt his stomach drop. It may have been in self defense, but still...

It was harder than he thought, but he pushed the thoughts of the dead wolf man out of his mind and rushed over to the boy. He had killed people before, and he didn't really feel the need to risk both of their safeties over a technicality.

He was almost there too, when the sudden strong stench of gasoline hit his nose. Something was wrong.

The Doctor paused and sniffed at the air some more and then he finally noticed what he was missing. There was no sound. All the wolf men had disappeared, all except for the dead one. They were going to torch the building.

The Doctor's fast pace became a full out run and he ran at the kid kneeling on the ground and grabbed his shoulders. Instantly he felt the boy tense under his fingers, but that wasn't the only thing he felt. The large lumps that were fastened to the boy's back by the belt were made of feathers? He wondered what it meant, but that was the least of his worries.

"Run!" He yelled as loud as he could, and the boy gave him a confused look, making no move to do as he was told.

"Who are you?" He asked angrily, and the Doctor would've gladly answered his question if not for the blinding light that engulfed his vision, forcing him to yank off the night vision goggles. The fire had begun.

"I'm the Doctor, and you're going to have to trust me!"

"I can't" The kid yelled in desperation.

"You have to trust me!" He repeated, and he tried to pull the boy to his feet. The garage was starting to fill with smoke, and it was only a matter of time before the flames consumed the building.

"No, dude! I can't run!"

If the Doctor had a free hand he would've smacked himself upside the head. What was he thinking? It was obvious the boy couldn't stand. If he had been able to, he would have escaped earlier.

"I'll have to drag you." He said more to himself than the boy. With a grunt of effort the Doctor grabbed to kid under the arms and started to drag him to the Tardis. It was made harder by the feathery things on his back, but he had to try. Even though every step he took made the kid hiss in pain, he still pressed on. He could feel smoke filling his lungs and burning his insides, along with strain on his muscles. He counted himself lucky that the kid was light, and before long he managed to drag the kid into the Tardis. The door was already open for them. She knew it was time go.

As gently as he could, he set the boy down on the floor and shut the door behind them... Beep.

The Doctor spun around in shock... Beep.

It was the button again... Beep.

The Doctor ran to the button, and found himself wondering if he should push it. After the last time, he didn't know what would happen... Beep.

The Doctor spared a glance at the injured teen behind him. The button had led him to the boy. Maybe it could lead him to help... Beep.

Sucking in a breath of air, he pressed the button.

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><p>So, how did you enjoy your completely 'Doctor' chapter?<p>

I wanted to go ahead and get these chapters out, because the next ones are going to have some major changes. For starters... The timeline is so messed up I have to call this an AU now. The original Torchwood team is still alive and I'm using the Eleventh Doctor... It's totally an AU.

I will being editing a ton of stuff on the other chapters and it'll take longer than I really want it to, but that's normally how it goes. I wanted to wait and get all the chapters rewritten, but these are taking up much needed space on my Doc Manager. Sorry. I'll try to not leave you hanging for months on end, and I'll post them as soon as I finish them. If you have a problem with that you can PM and tell me I'm a horrible person. (It doesn't matter what you say, I know you love me.) if it makes you feel any better... These three chapters are longer than all the older version's chapters combined.

Please Review!


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